Christopher’s Mood
by RillaOfIngleside
Summary: Millie has gone back to school, and - not coincidentally - the whole Castle is feeling the weight of Christopher’s displeasure...


Chrestomanci Castle, as its name indicates, is not a small place. But every one of its large draughty halls, multiple staircases and almost countless bedrooms is suffused with a mood of heavy sullenness and resentment. And it's all because one of its residents is in a bad mood.

I'm not talking about myself, by the way. I'm Bernard, one of the young enchanters brought here to learn from Monsignor De Witt (the great Chrestomanci) and his staff. So I am a resident, during term-time, anyway. But I'm an equanimous sort of chap for the most part - I like numbers and magic and buttered toast, and there's plenty of all of those at the Castle - and even if I were in a bad mood, I don't imagine many people would notice it.

No, I'm talking about Christopher. He's an enchanter, too - a nine lived one, which makes him particularly powerful, and means he'll be Chrestomanci when he's grown up. I reckon that's why De Witt has the rest of us educated here, in all honesty. He has to educate Christopher and train him up for being the Chrestomanci, you see, but he finds Christopher so difficult that he had a small group of us other children with strong magic come here too, in the hope that we'll sort of dilute Christopher a bit between us.

I once tried to ask Flavian if this is true. He's our principal tutor and normally jolly good at explaining things - if anything, he's inclined to err on the side of over-explanation rather than under-explanation. But he just went a bit red and vague. Who knows?

I don't know what's put Christopher into such a gloom today, but it's not uncommon. He frequently has fearful run-ins with Monsignor De Witt, from which we all feel the repercussions, so I expect it's that again. It can't have helped that Millie left for her new school this morning, and she's normally the only person who can cheer Christopher up. Millie's a brick- she's just jolly and nice and interesting and you can mostly forget that she's a girl - but unlike the rest of us, she goes away to boarding school. She lives at the Castle during the holidays though, and as our terms are much longer than the terms at her schools, she's here for a good bit while all the rest of us who go home for the holidays are. She does lessons with us, too, because she's got more magic in her little finger then almost anyone I've ever met, and it's always just a bit jollier when she's here.

I could feel a sort of truculent despondency in the air when I woke up, and it was even worse downstairs. I was down long before Christopher but already the gloom had seeped through the castle and the maids were downcast as they brought in the breakfast. I sat with Elizabeth and we agreed that we could tell it was going to be a rotten morning. I still ate my bacon and eggs, of course, but not with my usual zeal, and when Christopher eventually appeared at the table, it was as if concentrate form of bed temper was sitting there, fizzing out grumpy feelings into the atmosphere with every glower. After breakfast we all went back to our own rooms until lessons began. There didn't seem anything else to do.

The grey morning has turned into a grey and drizzly day. It's not untypical of English weather, specially in early autumn, so that's not why all of us are feeling somewhat below-parr as we traipse into the school room. Even Jason, who's normally on his second practical joke by breakfast, doesn't quite seem in the mood for it.

"Cheer up, Christopher", says Henrietta briskly, as she comes into the room, opens her desk and hunts distractedly about for her pen and ink bottle. She used to be a circus trapeze performer as a child and even now she doesn't move quite like other people. It's as though she's moving through lighter air than the rest of us, somehow. But she's had tougher times than most of us (my Father's a respectable accountant and he and Mother are terribly nice. Maybe it's partly that that means I find it hard to stand up to Christopher when he's being difficult, because his home situation is a bit dismal. I think that's why he lives at the castle all the time, even during holidays) and she speaks her mind.

Henrietta spills the ink bottle and Elizabeth starts explaining the best spell for getting ink out of gowns and how it differs from getting it out of rugs, and Flavian comes in. He's normally an enthusiastic fellow, but even he seems to be feeling the weight of the Christopher- shaped cloud of gloom this morning.

"Good morning, children", he begins and we're feeling so lacklustre that nobody musters the will to make the usual protest about being called children. (I'm the youngest and I'm nearly thirteen).

"This morning we shall continue our studies of the theory and the constituent parts of referential magic. As you will recall, the essence of referential magic consists, in language-based spell activity, of alluding to the desired outcome but not specifically aiming or describing it. But who can tell me how this translates into types of magic where no language is used?"

Flavian doesn't look as though he really thought any of us would be able to tell him. Partly I expect this is because, as I say, the room is fairly saturated with a feeling of grumpy hopelessness, but perhaps also because he knows in his heart that it's a bit much to ask a question like this first thing on Monday morning.

To everyone's astonishment, Christopher raises his hand. It's more like he's summoning a waiter than asking to talk, somehow, but it's a hand all the same, and Flavian nods encouragingly.

"Has there ever been a Chrestomanci who was married?" Christopher demands, abruptly. "I mean, why can't they be?"

Flavian looks taken aback, as well he might be, by this non-sequitur of a question. "Well, um. I can't say that I quite know... I have obviously read up a bit about the noteworthy points of the tenures of past Chrestomancis, and very interesting reading it is too, but of course the emphasis is very much on their professional accomplishments rather than their, ahum, private lives..."

"It's not private, whether or not you're married", Christopher says, with indignation and contempt in equal measure. "You wear a ring for everyone to see."

Flavian's obviously thinking about how he can get the lesson back on track and he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times.

"Oh yes, Chrestomancis can be married," Henrietta pipes up. "Heaps of them have been. Not our one, obviously, or the one before him, but almost all of them before that. You know the big room along from the boys' bedrooms? That was the old nursery they made about a hundred years ago when there was a Chrestomanci who had 8 children. There's certainly no rule that says the Chrestomanci can't marry".

Henrietta sees that we're all gaping at her a bit. Her magic is tremendous and her wits are very sharp but she's not known for her close knowledge of the history of the Castle and of Chrestomancis past. Indeed, none of us are.

"Millie told me", she shrugged. "We were in the library a lot that week in July that it never stopped raining, and she went through the castle archives to find out".

"Really?" says Christopher, quickly. "Millie was looking up whether a Chrestomanci can marry?"

Henrietta nods and Flavian takes the opportunity to seize control again. "Thank you, Henrietta", he says. "That clears that up. Now, if I may return to the topic of referential magic..."

As he continues, I find myself looking out of the window to see if the sun has come out (it hasn't), because the room suddenly seems perceptibly lighter and brighter.

By the time lessons break for lunch, everyone's in high spirits and we're ready to race down the hall like the children we insist we aren't any more. I turn in the doorway as I leave the school room. Christopher's still sitting at his desk. "Coming?"

"I'll catch up with you in a minute", he says airily, not even trying to hide the broad grin on his face. "I'm just going to write a letter."


End file.
